


Unspoken

by DeVereWinterton



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-13 01:34:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16883109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeVereWinterton/pseuds/DeVereWinterton
Summary: Jack heard her approaching him as her bare feet patted softly on the cold kitchen tiles, right before he felt her warm hands, sliding under his arms…





	Unspoken

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TeaandBanjo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaandBanjo/gifts).



> I asked for a prompt that could lead to a short fic, and TandBanjo gave me ‘midnight snack.’ Real life is kicking my butt and I believed writing would make me feel better, but I felt very uninspired. The prompt helped, a lot, and now I feel better after writing this. Whatever it is. This hasn’t been beta’d, so beware. All mistakes are mine.

 

Jack heard her approaching him as her bare feet patted softly on the cold kitchen tiles, right before he felt her warm hands, sliding under his arms. There was no intent of seduction as she gently placed her palms on his abdomen and pressed her clothed body against his bare back. It was an easy, effortless comfort that existed between them nowadays, so natural that sometimes he worried he would forget how special it really was. He cherished it. Every second of it.

The satin of her slip was soft against his skin, and when she rested her head on his shoulder, the ends of her tousled, dark hair tickled the juncture of his neck. Yet, he would not move away for all the gratin in France. The slight discomfort was easily compensated by the mild pressure she applied to hold him close to her, by the safety he found in her embrace, the scent of her, the grounding presence of her breathing.

He almost forgot why he’d gotten up in the first place.

Peering over Jack’s shoulder with sleep-filled eyes, Phryne looked out of his kitchen window, following his line of sight. It was very early; maybe four in the morning? There was a little bit of condensation on the glass, and she spotted tiny drops of dew on a cobweb outside. It would be another chilly autumn day, she could tell, yet Jack’s body felt hot and damp to the touch.

Earlier, he’d made love to her with his mouth, thoroughly and tenderly, until she was completely and utterly spent. When she’d attempted to return the favour, he’d refused, saying he wanted it to be about her pleasure tonight, and made her come again. And again. He’d been focused, almost obsessively so, and she had recognised his need for distraction. She’d allowed him to drown his sorrows between her thighs - knowing he would talk whenever he was ready - until they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

Phryne knew the risks of their jobs. She knew of the dangers and of the casualties. But losing one of his own men was something that would never get any easier. Jack had struggled, visibly, and had lashed out at her for no reason whatsoever. Last night he’d apologized - before he’d _apologized_ \- but she had actually been happy he had let some of his emotions out, however unjustified it might have been to yell at her.

She’d been here before, standing in the place where he now stood, his arms wrapped around her shivering frame as she sobbed. Her nightmares would probably never disappear, and neither would his. They took it in turns, holding one another, talking, but mostly saying nothing at all.

Jack’s shaky sigh cut through the comfortable silence around them. His breath rushed out of his lungs in staccato huffs, and his own body betrayed his suppressed emotions when his shoulders tensed. 

Phryne hugged him even tighter, pressing her breasts into his back and rubbing soothing circles into his skin.

They remained like this for seconds, minutes, hours? She did not know, and it did not matter. Jack’s chest expanded and deflated raggedly under her hands, the only sounds those of his irregular gasps until eventually, his breathing evened out.

He turned in her arms. His eyes were wet and murky blue, almost a stormy grey, displaying a whirlwind of emotions. Yet, through the haze, they bespoke a love that was almost palpable. Phryne swallowed at the intensity of his gaze as Jack entwined their fingers, lifting their joined hands to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles.

They were silent and still holding hands as he quietly led her out of his kitchen and into his bedroom.

They did not need words.

 


End file.
